Wings
by Camlyn
Summary: Jim has never belonged on the ground. Kirk character study, with a dash of KirkEnterprise.


A/N: Set post-film. Possible spoilers for ST XI. This story is a one shot and it is complete.

* * *

Jim had forgotten how much it could rain in Iowa.

He lay in bed and listened to the summer storm. Every few moments flashes of sheet lightning bathed his room in an electric glow. The rain splattered hard against his window and he put his pillow over his head, groaning, and tried to get back to sleep. After several minutes of tossing and turning he admitted defeat and pushed the bedcovers aside in frustration. He got up and went downstairs, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

He'd spent too long in space. It was still and silent, up there. Jim had been home for several days and he couldn't get used to how noisy it seemed on Earth compared to the everlasting silence of space. Every small sound caught his attention. Even just the steady hum of regular household appliances annoyed him and he never used to notice them.

His throat was dry and he felt unusually hungry so he fixed himself a mug of cocoa and raided the fridge. It was after two in the morning so he avoided anything heavy, settling for a blueberry yoghurt. He decided to ignore the fact that it was a couple of days past the use-by-date and was in the middle of taking a spoonful when he heard Bones' voice in his head, grumbling at him about the dangers of food poisoning and the irresponsibility of a captain taking stupid, unnecessary risks. He forced what was already in his throat the rest of the way down and put the yoghurt pot back in the fridge, closing the door with a sigh. His stomach growled in protest but Jim turned his back on the kitchen. He took the mug of cocoa and padded through the house to the front porch.

It wasn't that cold out and the porch shielded him from the rain as he sat down on the old swing there. For a while he just watched the storm. It was already leaving, the rumbles of thunder quieter and the flashes of lightning less frequent. Jim sipped leisurely from the mug and leaned back, wishing he could see the stars. The night sky was obscured by thick clouds and Jim felt isolated and abandoned.

It hadn't felt right to return to Iowa. He wasn't here by choice and he felt like an intruder in his own house. His mother, thankfully, was away, sparing him the awkwardness of their relationship, which was next to non-existent. He was closer to his crew than any of his blood relations.

Which was the whole problem.

He missed his family.

The enforced shore leave was driving him insane because all he wanted out of life was his ship and his crew. A crew who had become closer than kin; a family in all but blood.

He tried not to think of the Enterprise, caged in a docking bay, battered and bruised. It was going to take ages for her to be fixed and re-assessed and Jim missed her already. His only comfort was that the amount of deaths had been minimal and those he kept closest had emerged from the battle unscathed. Even the nightmares he'd experienced since the Enterprise was ambushed were lessening.

But the restlessness was not.

Nor would it, as long as his feet were kept so firmly on the ground.

A captain without his ship was like a bird with a broken wing.

Jim decided he was getting too melodramatic. It's just that he'd tried – tried to enjoy it as best he could. He visited his old haunts. Hooked up with a chick or two and tried to relive old times. It wasn't the same. He wasn't the same. The boy inside him was disappearing and it had been happing so subtly Jim hadn't even noticed.

He wished Bones was around. He could talk to Bones. Bones would listen and then he'd tell Jim to stop being an idiot and they'd hit the bars. Because as much as Jim and Spock no longer wanted to kill each other on a regular basis, Jim couldn't imagine ever pouring his heart out to Spock over a beer. He laughed at the very idea then realised he missed Spock too, because Spock wasn't like Bones or anyone else Jim had met, but he was no less valuable for it. Spock had his own way and Jim had come to respect that. Like he respected Uhura for her grace, Chekov for his determination, Sulu for his total awesomeness with swords, Scotty for always getting them to safety and keeping the ship running smoothly…

His poor ship. Not even Scotty could repair her this time. It was going to take an entire team of experts at least a month to get her back in the sky where she belonged, and in the mean time she was all alone in a dark and dusty docking bay. She would be lonely too, she would be missing her captain deeply, and Jim…Jim should go and see a psychiatrist because as much as he worshipped her, his baby was just metal and glass, and nuts and bolts, and he was starting to sound like a crazy person.

But he was sure she did miss him, just a little. He shut his eyes as he relaxed on the swing and he could hear her engines, purring.

There was a soft rumble of thunder but Jim didn't hear. He was dreaming of a starship, and he was nowhere near the ground.

* * *

(FIN)


End file.
